The Hand That Is Dealt
by EpicFail94
Summary: "Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were two competing hands in the same game. But children's minds are soft, and your first opponent quick forgotten."    Not quite sure what this is yet, might change genre later on if it does get continued?


If asked to describe him as a hand of cards, they would say he was a Royal Straight Flush.

Sirius Black was, in one word, perfect. But that didn't mean he was without faults. He was spoilt, arrogant, and had the occasional tenancy towards a cruel sense of humour. Of course, this was all hidden away under the immaculate mask one was required to build when being brought up in such a _reputable_ family. The face he showed to the wizarding world was handsome, charming, and gentlemanly. Generations of careful breeding, no matter what people said about it, will have it's results. Sirius was beautiful. His face was high and proud, defined cheekbones and a nose so straight it could make any artist cry. Midnight draped down either side of his face, straight, clean, and without a single hair out of place at any time, falling perfectly into place with so much as a shake of the head. The hair ended just past an angled chin, leading down to a long pale neck that led further on to straight-set shoulders, broad chest, flat stomach, and long legs.

This was the body of one who was painstakingly crafted to show just enough of a hint of amiability to fool and lull into a sense of security that could turn false at the drop of a wand.

Sirius could fit in at a conference for the Misuse of Under-age Magic while conversing loudly with Judge Karlsington about creating a Flying Motorcycle at a muggle garage during the summer holidays of his fifth year.

Sirius could smile at the women and have their mothers lining them up for marriage within the week.

Sirius could walk into a room and politely ask all the occupants to please stand up from their chairs and leave without giving reason, and they would just because it was _him_ that asked.

Sirius was a Black. And Black's were perfect.

Or, they were supposed to be. And while Sirius openly portrayed this prevarication in front of the stern, watchful eyes of the social Pure-Bloods, in the cover of his own mind he was a Maurauder through and through.

James Potter, Sirius's closest friend, would say that the day he stepped on Sirius's toe at Platform 9¾ was the worst of his life – and a marginally close second for the best.

Peter Pettigrew, Sirius's second closest friend, would agree and add that, had James _not_ stepped on Sirius's toe, Peter undoubtedly _would_ have and ended up in the Hospital Wing before he even got one foot on the train.

.

If asked to describe him as a hand of cards, they would say he was all the cards for a Flush, but with one wrong colour.

If asked to be described in one word, Remus Lupin would find himself in a suddenly very quiet room. Because, it is just not be possible to describe Remus in just one word. There are many one-word descriptions that could be given to him, yes; unassuming, studious, polite – but to describe him in one word only? Well... _you_ try.

Remus Lupin was not lucky in life. Nor in money or in love. It's not that his parents _never_ loved him. They just... lost him. He cannot judge them, though, because he knows that were he in the same position he would have done the same things, taken the same actions, acted the same way. It is hard to love a monster, and he knows this.

They tried. And he knows this, too.

They tried to love him, but to them the second he opened unfamiliar amber-gold eyes to see two sets of bright blue peering down at him, their son was dead.

His parents, John and Lucy Lupin, were not Gryffindors. They were Ravenclaws. They were not brave, they were smart; and with the hand they were dealt this was the smartest option. It was cruel, yes, but it was necessary. The lesser of two evils, they told themselves. And they may have just been right.

Remus Lupin was brought up by the man that had bitten him. Fenrir Greyback was not, despite his reputation, a _bad_ man; he was a lot like that Sirius Black, in a way. He had been brought up to be right and proper and charming, and he had been. But then he was turned into a monster and everyone knows monsters are foul and filthy and stupid and should not be treated like the wizards and witches they appear to be. And Fenrir held grudges. And this is what led him to bite one young Remus Lupin that fateful night twenty-one years ago.

It had been an accident, really. He hadn't meant to bite that boy, he had intended to curse the boys' friend – Sirius Black, the 'eldest' son of the man that had turned him out into the dirt. Oh yes, 'Greyback' was a lie. It was a rather suitable one, too, he thought.

Remus was a boy as stupidly smart as the next, however, and had refused to go back inside when the stars and the moon were still out to watch. And so it was not the arm of the strong Black Heir his jaws had latched onto, but the warm, childlike leg of one Remus Lupin.

.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were two competing hands in the same game. But children's minds are soft, and your first opponent quick forgotten.


End file.
